FairyTale
by TheShopkeep
Summary: Vacationing in Southampton with the Dursleys, Harry runs into a couple of dementors and DeathEaters, and meets one of the only people who will actually be able to help him in his fight with Voldermort. He just doesn't know it yet. 5th Yr. Hetalia. Slash.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own neither Harry Potter or Axis Powers Hetalia. They belong to their respective creators. The oc's mentioned belong to my friend and me.

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

Prologue

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

His feet hit the ground hard and fast, splattering water this way and that as he made his way down the barren street. It was empty, which was odd, seeing as a little rain never stopped any of the residents from their daily tasks; but then again, whenever something like this happened to him, no one ever seemed to be around, broad daylight or not. He was being followed, but he already knew this— had already known this for the past 10 minutes. He was getting tired, but he wasn't going to face them here. It was a public area, and someone, even though no one was ever around, could get seriously hurt. He didn't want anyone hurt, not if he could prevent it.

His steps collided with the cobblestone streets as he turned into a residential section. He wondered a moment how silly he must look to the surrounding residents before a dirt road leading off into the distance came to the forefront of his vision. His mind working scary fast with adrenaline quickly noted the well-worn path, half covered with overgrown plant life, which meant it wasn't used much now, or led somewhere secret and private. Either way, this bade well for him, so he turned down the path, the overhead foliage covering him quite efficiently from the rain. His wet footsteps made soft, dark colored indents into the mostly dry road, but he didn't care if he was fallowed, just so long as he got his pursuers away from the general populace and to someplace where he could figure out how to destroy them all. The path was generally strait, but had a few smaller ones that branched off into various directions in the forest. He swerved a bit, taking one of the winding paths, and then another branch off that one a few minutes later, hoping to outrun his pursuers before he fell into the dirt in exhaustion. Miraculously enough, he'd reached a clearing mostly made up of lake, and cursed to himself silently. There wasn't much room to fight, and he couldn't remember how to cast that bubble-head charm, much less if he'd be able to cast it quick enough.

The sound of footsteps was difficult to hear over the pouring rain, but the sudden fear of never being happy again alerted him to his lack of planning time, if he had of it left at all. Yes, he could see the dementors now; circling overhead in more numbers than he was sure he'd seen a couple of moments ago. And then, off the path came Death Eater after Death Eater, more than he could count with all the adrenaline rushing through his system. He cursed silently to himself. At these odds, he was pretty much screwed.

Almost instantly everything went flying. Stun spells, curses, hexes, anything he had in his arsenal of dark magic fighting. And with these curses, Death Eater after Death Eater fell. It was only when they started dodging and shielding, only when all the newbies and rookies had been taken care of, that he started worrying. The fact that the dementors were closing in didn't help, either. He made a beeline for the trees, hoping to be able to climb up into the foliage, dodging the curses aimed for his retreating figure using instinct alone. He was almost there, almost at his partial safety, when the wet grass and soil beneath him gave way, and he slipped into the mud. The wind was knocked out of him for a few seconds, and he tried to scramble back to his feet, but a sharp pain exploded, and his ankle refused to let him stand. He turned onto his back towards the enclosing footsteps, wiping his glasses with the back of his hand, just enough so he could see, and cursed.

He was surrounded.

The dementors were closing in as well. He could tell because the rain turned to hail, cutting at his skin and leaving small wounds to mix with the mud. He knew he was finished, but that didn't mean he was going to give in, not without a fight. He raised his wand with incredible speed, pointed it half at the Death Eaters before him, half at the dementors flying above.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

His voice cracked as a bright light radiated from the end of his wand, bathing the clearing in a silvery-white glow so bright, even _he_ had to close his eyes to keep from going blind. His arm fell into the grass, his energy gone, and his thoughts focused on breathing. He was tired, he was limp, hell, if it wasn't for the faint sensation of soft rain through the numbness, he would've thought he were dead. He opened his eyes slightly, to see a dementor free sky that was quickly covered by wet splatters on his glasses. His vision started to become blurry, and his eyes started to close. He struggled to keep them open, struggled to stay awake, but it couldn't be helped. He had nothing left. '_I'm probably going to die here_.' He thought to himself as the gray of the sky started to fade. The last thing he saw, the last thing he heard, was a glowing figure; a glowing figure and a few soft, jingling words before he slipped from consciousness and into what he could only guess was certain death.

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

He cursed silently to himself as mud slipped from his trousers into his boots. He always hated the feeling of anything in his shoes, be it sand, mud, small rocks, whatever. He also hated that he was trekking through the woods instead of doing his preferred activity of curling up on the couch next to the fireplace and reading, moping, wallowing in his pessimistic melancholy, whatever you want to call it. He wouldn't even be out in this god awful rain if it hadn't been for the faeries. There had been a fight out in the forest, and one of the combatants was injured, or that's what he could put together, at least. They could usually speak to him on the same linguistic level, but as of now they were too antsy to form human words, too high strung to do more than chirp, flutter, and tug insistently at his coat in the direction they were all evidently headed. Either way, whoever this person was, they were worried about them; he could tell by their ever constant fluttering, and by the tone in which they jingled. It was more anxious than the usual clip.

His trip took a total of 15 minutes, which was half the time it normally would have taken because of the fervent mixture of running and jogging the faeries insisted on. '_Whomever this person is,'_ he thought to himself as he stepped into the glade, panting lightly from his run. '_They must be pretty special for the faeries to like them so much.'_ He noticed the rain stop instantly, but he could still hear it, pattering just outside the clearing over the foliage, slipping from leaf to leaf and finally to the soft earth beneath. He wasn't surprised to find the Queen's glade like this, as it was common knowledge— at least for him— that while the faeries liked rain very much, they liked the sunlight even more so, and would often put up sun barriers to give themselves a few nutritious rays of warmth. What he hadn't expected, was for the Queen to be out, in her full, natural height— she could change it, after all— and bent worriedly over a figure sprawled in the grass and covered in mud. He closed his umbrella and jogged over, bowing slightly towards her in respect; even though every time he did so she looked slightly annoyed and promptly asked him not too.

"Wynfrith(1), is something the matter?"

"_This child... _" She said softly, her voice ringing clear in his head like a bell. It was a sort of telepathy, sort of not, and it was how the faeries spoke when they chose too. "_He is human, and injured. Come, take a look,_". He stepped forward, looking over the boy, lying there with an impossible stillness. He had mud in his messy, ebony hair, and was quite pale with just a hint of a tan, suggesting that the paleness was either due to his current state, or he had strayed recently from the outdoors. He looked small and frail with his discoloring complexion and overly large, gray clothes. His ankle was twisted in a direction that didn't look comfortable in the least, and there were numerous cuts and bruises marring his skin. He didn't look to be in any sort of good shape.

"His ankle might be sprained, but it doesn't look broken," He said after a few moments of taking in this bedraggled appearance. He shucked his jacket and lifted the boy slightly, dozens of faeries coming to his aid as he wrapped the protective layer around the boy's small frame. "He'll need tending too, and fast. Thank you for alerting me,"

"_Thank you for coming, Arthur,_" Wynfrith replied. _"You're the only one I could trust him with,_". Her eyes shone briefly, and it was in this instant that he realized why the boy wasn't just transported to the outside of a nearby hospital. He had magic radiating from him like the gamma rays of a far off super nova, magic that was so dispersed, so broadcast, that he knew this boy, when fully healed, could be almost as powerful as himself, with the proper training. He was still a child, after all. "I'll need to get him home fast," Arthur said, shifting the boy in his arms slightly so his head wasn't lolling over the bend of his elbow and was instead resting on his shoulder, pointing inward. "He won't be able to last another 10 minutes in this condition, much less with the addition of rain and his depleted reservoirs,"

"_I thought that, as well,_" Wynfrith said, nodding once. "_That's why I've sent for transportation,_". Almost as if on cue, a soft nickering sounded from behind him, as well as the footfalls of hoofed feet on damp grass. Leofwine(2) cantered up, nuzzling into Arthur's shoulder affectionately.

"Hullo, Leofwine," He smiled. "Can I trouble you into taking me to home? I'm afraid this boy might not make it should I travel on foot," Leofwine nodded once before again nuzzling into his shoulder.

—_Of course, Arthur of Ciricland__(3)_—

It took a few moments for Arthur to mount, and only few more to maneuver the unconscious responsibility securely in his arms without fear of either of them toppling off Leofwine's back.

"_Have a safe trip,_" Wynfrith said, placing a soft kiss on all three of their foreheads. Arthur nodded his response, and Leofwine neighed before galloping off in the direction of Arthur's house. The instant they stepped out of the clearing, the rain came pouring down onto them, almost small spears on Arthur's back with the increased speed of Leofwine's gallop. He held the muddy adolescent close to his chest, shielding him form any cold that he could and simultaneously getting mud all over himself. He could always get it out later if he really needed to, and it wasn't like he especially liked this particular shirt, or anything.

The trip took a total of 10 minutes. Arthur took note of the boy's shivering as well as his own as he slipped from Leofwine's back and to the stone steps that led up to his garden door. —_You can replay me by getting inside and warming up, Arthur_— Leofwine said, knowing the question Arthur was going to ask before he asked it. This situation happened often enough. Arthur nodded, smiling softly.

"Thank you, Leofwine," He nodded. He was replied with a bit of nickering before his friend galloped off and he headed for the warmth of his house.

Kicking off his shoes, his footfalls fell strait for the lavatory, starting the bath and getting it to a warm temperature as the boy was propped up against the wall, his conscience more worried about the minimal blue hue on the boy's pale skin more than anything. As he left the tub to fill, he quickly stripped his visitor of his clothing grabbing a bath towel from the linen closet— one of those thick, warm ones he remembered getting from Kiku for Christmas a few years back. Nodding slightly to himself in approval, he placed it next to him on the tile, rolled up his sleeves, and set the boy gently into the tub, careful to keep both his mouth and nose above the water. After a thorough scrubbing of the skin, he drained the water a bit and floated the boy over, grabbing the shampoo and dutifully cleaning the mud from the black mop of hair. After about three washes, he deemed it clean enough, and added a bit of conditioner to ease a bit of the hassle in the brushing process for when the boy awoke. Afterward, he drained the tub and pulled the boy out, nodding with a smile of satisfaction now that his current charge was cleaner, warmer, and had a more natural skin color. He wrapped the boy in the towel, drying him easily before leaving briefly to grab a pair of his own pajamas and a pair of boxers he'd shrunken once on accident and couldn't really fit into any more. He returned, promptly dressed the boy, and carried him to his bedroom, where he could get some proper rest while that ankle— which was, in fact, only sprain; he had checked it while he was bathing him— and the numerous cuts could heal. He tucked him in gently, grabbing a few extra quilts and piling them on top to keep him warm. It was only then, when he was running his final check over his guest's status, that he took notice of the boy's forehead. On the right temple, etched into the skin, was a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.

His eyes widened slightly. So this boy was... he could barely believe it. Though it did explain a decent bit of things, and it did give reason as to how he'd gotten so far into a magically enchanted forest to begin with. He just hadn't expected this small, skinny figure to be The Boy Who Lived. He poked at the scar a second, chuckling slightly when a green spark of magic came to meet his fingertip, before he headed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Boy Who Lived or not, he was safe now in the bedroom, and with that knowledge in mind, Arthur's neat-freakishness started to show through. Grabbing a rag and a bucket from the broom closet down the hall, he hastily headed to the bathroom to clean up the mud.

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

**A/N:** Alright, so I've had this for a while now, and I figured I'd post it before the number of fanfictions grew any higher from the original two I found as inspiration. Arthur will be a bit OC at the beginning, because honestly, wouldn't you act differently around your own people as compared to the other countries? I think so. Not to mention I probably can't write him worth anything.

Tell me what you think, please! A review would be absolutely _fantastic_.

**1))**** Wynfrith **— An Ango-Saxon name meaning 'friend of peace'. In history, was the name of a missionary for the Roman Catholic Church who was sent to Frisia and Germany to spread Christian faith before being martyred in Frisia in 754 A.D. It's usually used as a boy's name, but in this one it's the name of the Queen of all Faeries.

**2)) Leofwine **— Another Anglo-Saxon name. Means 'dear friend' and is derived from Old English Roots. It was the name of an 8th century Saint, also known as Lebuin, who did missionary work in Frisia. In this, it's the name of a unicorn.

**3)) Arthur of Circeland **— 'Cierce' is Old English for 'church', and seeing as the meaning of 'Kirkland' is 'Church Land' I thought it fitting that his magical friends from way before surnames would probably call him by a title that evolved into his surname.

All the Old English I use can be found in this dictionary: _http : /home . Comcast . net / ~modean52 / oeme _ dictionaries_ ._ htm _just delete all the spaces


	2. Getting to Know One Another

**Disclaimer:** I do not own neither Harry Potter or Axis Powers Hetalia. They belong to their respective creators. The oc's mentioned belong to my friend and me.

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

Chapter 1

Getting to Know One Another

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

Harry was surrounded by black. Black black black black black, just... just everywhere. He sighed out loud. Really now, gaining consciousness in this fashion was starting to try on his nerves. With a slight growl at the whole process in general, he swam forward towards the light that was either consciousness or death. Either way, he was getting out of this darkness. It was cold here, dammit, and just because he had a higher tolerance for it than most- what with his way-too-frequent run-ins with Death Eaters and all- didn't mean he liked it. And besides, even if he was swimming towards death, it didn't matter. He was going to die sooner or later, why not now when he was just so tired of this bloody war? Ha, take that Fudge, you've got no one to protect you now. Ha ha and double bloody ha.

The closer to the light he got, the more he had to close his eyes to keep from going blind, and the more he started to fear that this light actually lead to death. Yes, he was just _so ready_ to end his part in the war, but what about Sirius? What about Remus? What about Ron and Hermione? Or the rest of the Weasleys who treated him like their own instead of the Boy Who Lived? Before he could change his mind and head back to the blackness, just for long enough to think this through, the light pulled him in, and he clamped his eyes shut.

The next thing he knew, he was curled up in something warm, tight, and heavy. He assumed, almost automatically, that he wasn't dead, just restrained. This brought him both great relief, and great anxiety. If he was restrained, then he must've been captured. That, however, didn't explain the warmth. He didn't think making the hostage comfortable was a standard Death Eater torture method. He shifted a bit to not only find that the restraints weren't really restraints, but that he was dressed in something that felt pretty bleeding wonderful when rubbed against skin. He didn't think putting captives in satin pajamas were too common a practice either. This all pretty much meant that he hadn't been captured, and was somewhere else... but where? And who had bothered to go deep into a forest in all that rain? He still had to figure out what that glow was, too. The one that accompanied the sound that he remembered- the one like a bunch of worried bells.

Deciding that action did indeed speak louder than words- or thoughts in this case- he opened his eyes, and was met with a blur. Well, at least his eyes didn't fail any worse than they normally did. After a few minutes of struggle, he was able to break free of the heavy warmth he had dubbed lots and lots of blankets, and shivered almost instantly as the cool air hit him. He shook his head to rid it of the urge to just dive back into the covers, and felt around, looking for a nightstand or something. He nearly fell off the bed twice in his search, before his fingers came in contact with polished wood, and then curled around a pair of wire frames and smooth glass. He smiled in triumph at his prize, unfolded the frames, and slipped them expertly onto his nose.

Upon finally looking around, he found he was almost shocked to see how nice a room he was in. The walls were a soft cream, the carpet a deep, dark, plush red. The room was rather large, a little bigger than the dormitory rooms at Hogwarts, and the bed was large enough to show that- bigger than a king size, he supposed. The sheets were made of white cotton, the comforter a red that matched the carpet almost to the shade. On top of that- and him, he realized- had been about four expertly embroidered quilts, all of varying color, pattern, and age. The room was neat with furniture made of smooth mahogany, _real_ mahogany, and a full length mirror on the opposite wall from the bed. It was because of this that he saw the pajamas he wore weren't only a little big, but were the same shade of green as his eyes. They also felt nice against his skin. Really nice.

Shaking that thought aside- Dudley steals, dammit, not him- he slipped from the rather large bed, and headed over to the door. Upon opening the wooden barrier, he could hear faint music coming from downstairs, some song he hadn't heard yet, one that included violins. It sounded pretty cool, actually, and whatever the lyrics were, the voice singing them was good.

He crept down the stairs and hallway, headed for the source of the music, that- from what he could see- was the kitchen. The song was louder now, and he could clearly make out the lyrics. He could also clearly hear not one, but two voices. One he assumed was the radio, the other belonged to whoever was in the kitchen. Careful not to be seen, he peeked around the corner, his eyes scanning the tiled room.

A man was hurrying about busily. He seemed to be about 23 or so, with hair as wild and unnameable as his own, except more of a dirty blonde-ish shade. If Harry had to guess, he'd say the man was 175cm, making him a whole 10cm taller than himself, and giving an explanation as to why the pajamas were so big on him(1). The man was dressed nicely, in a pair of brown slacks, a white dress shirt, and a sweater vest, but the sleeves and pant legs were rolled up to the knees and elbows as he went about cleaning the floor and other various surfaces. By the unconscious amount of thorough cleaning he saw, Harry definitely believed that this man, whoever he was, was a gigantic neat freak, or at least something similar. His complexion was a pale tan color but not too much, and when he turned around, Harry saw vivid green eyes, much like his, and the thickest pair of dirty blonde eyebrows he'd ever seen.

The man took a moment to notice him, but when he did, he smiled. "Hey!" He yelled over the music, turning it lower when he got towards the stereo. "Good Morning! I didn't expect you to be up so soon. You feeling ok?"

"A-a little cold, but I'm alrigh- "

Something plopped down on his shoulders. He blinked for a second, then took a closer inspection, to see that it was one of the quilts he had been under. Taking the corners in confusion, he tugged them closer, and looked around for whoever could have known he was cold ahead of him realizing it himself. He saw no one. His attention was brought back to the Englishman before him by a soft chortle. "The fairies," He said simply, as if it explained everything in the world. "They like you."

Harry nodded slightly, taking this information in. He'd seen fairies before, but they always seemed so... self-centered, and never in his life had he met a muggle who knew about them. Maybe this man was a squib? The blonde held out his hand. "My name's Arthur," He said. "Arthur Kirkland. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Potter."

Harry jumped. "H-How do you know my name?" Arthur just tapped his temple in response, and all shock and suspicion drained out of him like water through a strainer. "Right," He said, having the decency to blush slightly in embarrassment as he took Arthur's hand and shook it politely. "Sorry about that,". Arthur shook his head. "No, no, that's quite alright. I expected some sort of suspicion."

Harry watched as Arthur went back to his cleaning, humming along with the soft music. This man, to put it bluntly, confused him. He seemed to be muggle, but had awareness of the magical community. More so than a muggle parent who had their child enrolled in a magical school, otherwise he wouldn't have known how to identify him, much less save him. On the other hand, he was very muggle oriented- the stereo, his style of dress, hell, Harry hadn't seen one bloody proof this man could even _preform_ magic...

He was definitely starting to think he was in the house of a squib.

"Um, Mr. Kirkland?" He said, voice coming out softer than intended. Arthur looked up, blinking slightly. "Where exactly are we?". This pulled a small chortle from the man. "This is my house," He said. "It's secluded, and not any people know it's location. If you had taken the straight path on your run through the forest, you would have reached here in maybe 10 minutes,"

"Yes... about that- " Harry paused. He wasn't sure how much this man knew, and he wasn't sure how to go about explaining it, but he had to explain something. He was sure Mr. Kirkland wanted to know why he was in his(he assumed it belonged to him, anyway. If anything, he was playing it safe and assuming the man believed it as his) forest, and he wasn't exactly sure why he hadn't been asked yet. This man acted so different from anyone else he'd met- even the people he was closest too, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, the rest of the Weasleys- they'd all treated him wonderfully, but he could tell that they thought of him on a different level. They may not know it, but there was a subtle air of worship that he just noticed, probably more than anyone else. Granted they weren't nearly as bad as some of the people he'd met, but it was still there. The subtle knowledge that, in the end, he was and always would be their savior. With Mr. Kirkland, that wasn't the case. He acknowledged he was well known, acknowledged his feats, but that was that. He didn't ogle, he didn't poke, he didn't prod, he didn't try to be someone else just to get on Harry's good side-

All in all, it was quite refreshing, meeting someone who knew who he was and couldn't care less. Kind of like when he would talk to Sirius. Except Mr. Kirkland wasn't his godfather, and couldn't turn into a Grim-like dog.

Well... maybe...

His jumped slightly as a hand was pressed to his forehead. "You alright?" Mr. Kirkland asked, his eyebrows were scrunches slightly in worry, as he placed a hand to his own forehead as well. "Hmm... you don't seem to have a fever... " Harry looked at him in confusion a moment, before realizing what happened, and blushing. "S-sorry... I um... I spaced out," Mr. Kirkland blinked slightly, then laughed. "Well that's a relief," He said, retreating his hand and heading over to the stove. "You know, you've surprised me," He continued, pulling a small cauldron from the cupboard and pulling a small can of condensed soup from the pantry. "Recovering so fast, and waking up within only a couple of hours... you were practically dead when I got to you, and now you're up and about,". He smiled, turning on the stove. "Amazing really... "

"Yeah, I... I get that a lot," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck slightly. He wasn't sure he was used to someone taking his abnormal gifts so lightly. He'd always, for example, been a fast healer, and he was more than used to escaping death. He just didn't know someone could mention it passingly in conversation. Most people were awestruck by it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, pink light shooting in front of his eyes. It was soon followed by a blue one, a yellow one, and a green one, all of them fluttering about his face and head. He blinked slightly as they hovered closer to his glasses, before a soft tug at his pant leg had him looking down. There were more of them fluttering around his ankle, soft touches of warmth shooting through his skin and tingling up the bone. The glows moved fast, touching his ankle about 15 or so more times before leaving it and fluttering contently about him. Hell, he was sure there were some in his hair. He could hear Mr. Kirkland chuckle again. "I was right," He smiled. "The fairies _do_ like you,"

Harry's eyes widened slightly. These little puff balls were fairies? He held out his hand gently, and almost like a snowflake, only faster, the glow came to rest in his palm. Slowly bringing his hand to his face, he saw that the glow was truly a fairy- a small one, blue in color and wearing clothes of the same shade. The little one yawned cutely and fluttered back up, giving him a small kiss on the very tip of his nose. She opened her mouth, as if she were talking, and a tiny bell sound jingled out before she kissed his nose again, and zoomed over to Mr. Kirkland, who now had the soup bubbling dutifully in the cauldron. Several of the fairies followed, and began to swarm around the Englishman, who only chuckled as they settled around him, three in his hair one on his ear, and one on each shoulder.

"Um.. about why I was in the forest... " Harry paused again, not exactly sure how to continue. He decided, that if he couldn't trust this man, he could always obliviate him later or something. "I was being chased by about... 20 Death Eaters and a swarm of dementors... I was trying to get out of the muggle city, trying to get somewhere I could fight them without anyone noticing... I'm not even sure how I'm alive now... "

Mr. Kirkland looked up from the soup, a look of surprise on his face. "20 death eaters? I wasn't aware their numbers had grown so they could risk that many... and since when did Voldermort get the dementors on his side?"

Harry's eyes widened. This was certainly surprising. "You're not afraid to say his name?" Mr. Kirkland shook his head, chuckling. The fairies, meanwhile, had led Harry over to a nicely crafted mahogany table. "I have much more important things to worry over than banning myself from the usage of someone's title... how did you manage to fight all of them off?" Harry shrugged, watching as Mr. Kirkland ladled soup into two finely crafted porcelain bowls. "Patronus, I think... it was very bright, though... brighter than normal... thank you," He took the bowl and spoon with a nod, blowing on a spoonful of the liquid before taking a bite. He paused a moment, running the pleasant taste around in his mouth before noticing his host was a bit tense. He wasn't looking at him, but he had yet to actually take a bite himself... what was he so nervous about?

"Um... Mr. Kirkland... ?"

"Arthur! It, um... call me Arthur," He said, still a bit nervous looking. He bit his lip a moment before glancing up at him, then back down at his soup, then back up at him. His eyes finally landed on his own bowl of soup, before his voice came to the surface. "How, um..." He paused a moment, trying to make his voice less soft, more sure of himself, Harry assumed. "How is it? Th... The soup, I mean,"

"The soup?" Harry asked, tilting his head slightly in confusion and sending a few fairies for a short ride. "It's fine... " He became even more confused by the obviously relieved way Mr. Kir- Arthur, slumped forward, and the happy smile spread across his lips.

"Thank goodness," At Harry's continued confusion, Arthur replied with a casually embarrassed scratching at the back of his neck, and a slight coloring of his cheeks. "Well, ah... The people I usually interact with... they say I can't cook... and granted I'm not a gourmets, but I think I do just fine... or at least I did... " Arthur shook his head. "It's gotten to the point where no one will eat anything I make, even if I say it's ok and I tried really hard to make it so... "

"I assume they haven't tried your soup, then," Harry commented, taking a bite, and then a few more. "This soup is just smashing," He took a few more bites as Arthur blinked, then smiled, and laughed slightly. "Ahaha... if only they could hear you now... they'd say it's because your British that you can stand my food," Harry's eyebrow rose.(2)

"Because I'm British?"

"Ahh... we're from all over. kind of like a group of people with each person representing a different country. I assume you know enough about muggles to know how that would work?"

Harry nodded. "I like to keep up with muggle politics when I get the chance... though it's been difficult with Voldermort back... " Arthur nodded, taking a few bites of his soup before replying. "It must be difficult for you... having the burden of the whole world's safety on your shoulders like that... " Harry nodded, wishing the atmosphere would get a little less melancholy and a little more happy, like it had been a few moments ago when there had been much soup praise.

Harry sighed, his head falling forward out of more or less habit, and sending an unsuspecting fairy, a yellow one, flying forward with a high pitched shriek into the soup. The air was thick with surprise, both Englishmen tense as the fairy remained beneath the surface of the liquid. After what felt like minutes, a small yellow head broke the surface, gasping a single breath of air. She blinked twice up at Harry's stunned face, before her own broke out in a wide grin, accompanied by a giggle, and a cry of happiness before she fell back into the bowl and began to use it as a swimming pool. She was soon joined by more fairies, some jumping from Harry like he was a diving board, and others flying from their perches on Arthur to dive bomb into their not-exactly-but-close-enough pool. Both Englishman looked up at each other, blinked, and proceeded to break into an infectious laughter that left them breathless for several minutes.

******~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**  


"Hey, um, Arthur?"

Arthur looked back from the coat rack, second arm half through the sleeve of his jacket, and at Harry who was looking out at the pouring, but light enough to walk in without too much difficulty rain.

"Yes, Harry?" He asked, straitening his jacket and grabbing what he believed was the biggest umbrella he owned. The faeries were fluttering around them lazily, their little soup swim having taken a lot of their bountiful energy.

Harry's eyes strayed on the forest a moment, before his head turned, and his eyes fell on the blonde. "Where are we going again?".

"We're going back to the forest glade I found you in,"

Arthur grabbed a rather long, thick coat he used when he was particularly cold. He figured that Harry could use it, especially since even in a pair of thick jeans and a sweater- both of which were a bit big since his clothes had been so waterlogged they had to be run twice through the dryer and he had to borrow from Arthur again- he still looked a bit cold. "There's someone there I'd like you to meet, and knowing her, she'll be curious on your condition," Arthur looked back outside, handing Harry the coat and getting a nod of thanks as the boy slipped it on. "I would have preferred to go later, but this is the clearest weather we'll have for the next couple of days... and I'm sure you want to get home as soon as possible,"

"I'd rather not, actually," Harry admitted as he zipped the coat up. It was a nice navy blue color with a lot of outside cargo pockets and fell to a little below his knees. He had to roll up the sleeves a bit, but other then that, it was pretty snug. "My aunt and uncle don't take very kindly to the whole 'magic' concept, and I'd rather not try and explain to them that I disappeared so that their ungrateful arses wouldn't get 'Aavada Kadavra'ed into the afterlife,"

"I see," Arthur chuckled, pulling on a coat of his own. "If you'd rather, you could stay with me until school starts. I've got plenty of room, and it's not like I'd mind the company," Harry looked up at him, eyes wide. "Really? You wouldn't mind?". Arthur laughed. "Not at all; though we would have to stop by your house to pick up your things. I'd hate to leave anything with your aunt and uncle- they seem like horrid people,"

"They are," Harry smiled, watching as Arthur attempted to undo the forest green umbrella straps for an easier opening. Once the umbrella started behaving they both stepped outside, and the umbrella popped open easily, shielding them from the rain under it's massive coverage.

"We can discuss the travel details when we return," Arthur said before holding out his arm like gentleman usually do to young ladies. "Shall we?"

Harry chuckled slightly at how much like a girl he felt, but hooked their arms anyway with a reply of "Yes, lets," And with an in unison step that seemed too Mary Poppins to be anything else, they headed off down the stone path that lead to the forest.

Their trip took about forty minutes as neither of them were in any hurry, and several stops were made when Arthur saw something he just had to go into detail about. This ranged from the different types of magical trees that lay on each side of the path, the dwarves working out in the heavy drizzle with large leaves suspended above them to cover from the rain, and the mother elf running through the downpour in search of cover. She took it in the form of their umbrella, which was actually big enough for all of them, if they scrunched close enough. In this portion of time, Harry got to coo over a tiny elfin baby with small tufts of frizzy platinum hair and bright, ice-blue eyes, while the mother conversed with Arthur over something or other- he wasn't paying much attention, but he caught certain words like 'soup', 'sick', and something that sounded like 'blood'(3). Afterward, Harry had to give the tiny bundle of joy up and both Englishman found themselves waving as the retreating woman's back as she ran back out into the not-so-downpour, shielding her baby with her upper body, and a rather nicely woven blanket. When she was out of sight, they continued their trip, turning down one of the many branches Harry had lost count of long ago- Arthur had told him there were over one hundred and ten paths in all off this forest- with Arthur leading him once more by the arm.

Upon his second visit to the glade, Harry had to admit that it was quite beautiful. The lake that took up most of it actually held a small island in the center that was completely covered in red spotted mushrooms that had grown to the most outrageous sizes. The grass was a soft green, much like the grass at Hogwarts, only... easier. More gentle. It had been quite soft as well, he remembered- if he was even in the right state of mind to be thinking about soft grass during a deathly fatal attack on his life. Maybe it had been stored in the back of his memory and was just now resurfacing or something. Arthur tapped him on the shoulder, effectively making his head snap up and his mind clear.

"Watch," The blonde said, tapping the air in the direction of the mushroom island. Harry turned his attention to that direction, just in time to see a small light flicker from a tiny square hole he hadn't seen carved into the side of the main mushroom. Another one lit up, and another, and another, until the entire island was glowing with mini lights. Small orbs flew from the windows within the next second, forming outside the mushrooms and over the lake into a sphere about the size of a quaffle, before shooting higher into the sky and hovering near the top of the treeline like a miniature sun. It's glow intensified a bit, and the pitter patter of rain stopped. The clearing was left in total silence.

Then, almost all at once, the sounds of millions of tiny bells started to jingle. They rose in volume, started to buzz and hum with happiness, and then, like swarms of many multi-coloured fireflies, fairies poured into the clearing; singing, dancing, twirling around in the sunlight like they were high on happiness- something Harry didn't doubt for a second. There was a joy that pierced him at the sight, almost by force. He wondered if it was because of the faeries. They practically seemed to radiate it.

After a few minutes of watching the hyper spectacle, Arthur cleared his throat, and the faeries paused, millions of tiny heads shot in their direction, millions of even tinier eyes just staring at them. There was a long, awkward silence, in which Harry sat fidgeting, wondering if Arthur really should have done that, when almost like a train wreck, the jingling started up again, and millions upon millions of faeries shot towards them, cocooning them in warmth, and light, and rainbows. He could hear the tiny chirps of many a range bells, and was getting quite dizzy from all the tugging and gripping and movement of all those tiny, tiny hands on him. Then the dizziness slowed, and the chirps dimmed, until he was floated gently by only about a hundred to the floor of the glade, fixed up immaculately by those same hundred, and then left completely alone.

Another melodic laughter filled him.

_"I'm terribly sorry,"_ Came a soft, jingly voice from both the air and his consciousness itself all at the same time. _"My children get a little excited whenever someone new comes to visit,"_ Another fairy fluttered forward. She was significantly bigger, probably about 30cm in height, with skin glowing a soft, barely noticeable baby blue. Her hair was a dark navy that fell with a slight wave to her shoulders, framing her heart shaped face and her silvery eyes. She wore a dress composed of rather large flower petals, like the dress had been made with actual sized petals and then enlarged a few times to fit.

"Th-that's alright," Harry said, a bit breathless, and not exactly sure why. Maybe he was in awe or something. The fairy he could actually understand fluttered forward, placing her tiny, cool hand on his cheek, sending a shiver through his skin. She fluttered up and pressed both of her tiny hands- the total surface equivalent of two fingers- to his forehead. He was about to ask her what she was doing when she spoke. _"You still have a bit of a fever... "_ She murmured softly, fluttering down to his eye level. _"And you're still cold... "_

"I'm fine," Harry blinked. He was used to getting small, periodical fevers, mainly because of how little the Dursleys handled his healthcare. He was used to feeling cold, because all he had to do was throw on an extra layer... which didn't help much when he was younger, because they didn't give him much clothes... now that he thought about it, that was probably why he'd gotten so used to it in the first place...

The fairy looked at him- or rather, his condition- with disapproval before looking at Arthur. _"I'm surprised you brought him out so early, Arthur,"_ Her voice held a tiny amount of shock to go along with the disappointment. _"Drastic recovery or not, I know it's bad for humans to go out in this weather with a fever,"_

"I know, but this is the best weather we've had in days," Arthur said, having enough class to look sheepish and slightly regretful. "To be honest, I'd rather he get sick now then for him to get better just to get ill again,"

The fairy sighed, cradling her cheek in her tiny hand. _"I suppose you have a point there... "_

"And we are being careful," Arthur added. "We walked slowly, even stopped for a few rests, and I bundled him up quite nice, I think."

The fairy nodded again, accepting his excuses for now. _"It's rather remarkable, though,"_ She said, fluttering a bit closer and looking into his eyes with puzzlement- almost as if staring at his eyes would answer her curiosity. _"For so many wounds to heal so fast... "_

"I'm a naturally quick healer, ma'am," Harry supplied, noticing her slight jump as she was taken out of her trance. "Whatever it was mustn't have been that bad."

_Even though I'm sure I snapped my ankle or something- at least made it a bit swollen, but it was fine when I woke up..._

"That," Arthur commented. "and the faeries were hovering over him for the better part of an hour after I cleaned him up and fixed what I could physically," The fairy seemed to brighten at this.

_"If that's the case,"_ She leaned forward, placing a small kiss on his forehead. _"then I'm glad you're better. I hope the next time I see you your ǽðm will have cleared up as well,"(4)_

"My wot?"

The fairy smiled motherly and pet him softly on the head. _"It's nothing, lýtling."(5)_

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

The Ministry was a mess.

Magic had gone off. Magic with a signature that matched Harry Potter had gone off, and no one could pinpoint where. There was no trace, but there was every trace. Every magical part of England had erupted with life at precisely the same exact moment in time, and no one, not even their best Aurors, could pinpoint the origin of the powerful blast. Arthur Weasley sighed in exasperation as he was led to yet another dead end. All this searching was getting bloody irritating, and the overwhelming worry for Harry's well being wasn't helping in the least. He didn't know what he was going to tell Molly when he got home, but whatever it was, he dreaded having to say it.

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, wincing as another wave of anxiety passed through him. Lucius was having a freaking ball with all of this, convincing everyone that Harry was doing something wrong, something illegal... something that was going to get him in trouble, or worse, Azkaban. In his entire division, he was the only one left. The only one who refused to leave until he got answers. Harry's signature had been so pronounced... almost at an impossible level. It had even revived the magical signature of the country, of the entire United Kingdom back into a level of awareness... that was a feat that the ministry had failed at since it's creation in 1692, back when the magic lines of the planet were hidden away effectively by the very planet itself... back when magical creatures were thought of equals if not superior, back when they had more reign.

Needless to say, Harry Potter finding the source of the laylines, and affecting it enough to allow them to flourish... well the ministry didn't particularly like this glory being taken from them.

Arthur sighed again, tire overcoming his senses for the seventh time or so that night. He was wearing out quickly, but he had to find Harry. He wouldn't let himself rest until he knew the boy was ok. He rubbed the sting from his eyes, pressing a bit to wake them up, only to be interrupted by a soft, nearby hooting. Looking up, he saw Hedwig preening her feathers, and almost jumped up. A message form Harry! Maybe now he'd get the answers he needed. Careful not to let his shaky hands jar the poor bird too much, he took the parchment- no, not parchment, is was that muggle stuff, paper- from it's tie, and read over the letters anxiously.

_I'm safe, don't worry. I was hurt there for a bit, but a friend's helping me recover. He's not a DE or apart of HWMNBN, and he's trustworthy. I don't know where I am at the moment, but it's protected._

_Will keep in touch,_

_ Harry_

His eyes scanned the letter a good seven times before he was able to release his pent up breath. He quickly grabbed a roll of parchment, dipped his quill, and scrawled back a reply. He gave Hedwig a treat or two, letting her know she was missed, as he tied the reply to Hedwig's claw. "Take this to Harry, will you? That's a good girl," The owl hooted softly before taking to the sky again, flying expertly into the black abyss of a sky dotted with stars. Sighing once more as tire started to catch up with him and as anxiety started to slowly leave. He knew he'd get lots of questions when he got home. He knew he'd have minimal answers. Gathering his things, he folded the letter and slipped it into his coat pocket, right next to his wand. This was one letter he wasn't going to misplace anytime soon(6).

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

Harry yawned as he stared out at the stars. He was sleepy, and his eyes wanted to close, but he wanted to wait for Hedwig to return before sleeping again, and besides, he hadn't seen a clear night in months. The moon wasn't in sight, but that just made it so much better. He'd never seen so many stars in the sky before...

The soft clink of a cup made him look away slightly. "Thanks," He said as he took the cup, sipping the camomile tea with a small smile. Arthur smiled and took a seat next to him, looking up at the stars as well.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" He asked, and Harry nodded. They certainly were something. "They always twinkle like this... at this time of year... it's sad, really, this is the only time I've ever been able to enjoy them."

Harry looked away fully this time. "Wot do you mean?" He looked at Arthur, noting the distant, almost sad look in his eyes as he stared out at the stars. Almost as if he was looking at a memory he'd rather forget but couldn't afford to.

"Today... July fourth... it's a horrible day, really... " His voice was soft, distant, almost like he was talking to the very air itself. "No one ever realizes... such an event, such a painful memory... I'm not even sure he remembers, wot with how he celebrates it so fervently... "

"Today?" Harry questioned, taking another sip of his tea before continuing. "Is there something special about it? It's not a holiday or something... a birthday maybe?"

Arthur nodded. "It's... similar to that, yes... " Arthur placed his cup down, now empty. "But it's very difficult for me to get anything done today... if it weren't for you, I'd be drunk on wotever booze I have in my cabinet. I really must thank you for that. For distracting me."

"You're welcome, I guess," Harry said, scratching his chin, slightly confused. "Not like I meant to, but you're welcome all the same."

Arthur smiled slightly at that. "No, I suppose you didn't. We all make fruitful mistakes sometimes, ne?"

Harry laughed a bit too. "Yeah, fruitful mistakes. Maybe I should get chased by dementors and Death Eaters every 4th of July then."

Arthur's smile brightened as ruffling Harry's hair playfully. "Honestly, I'd rather you just stop by for a visit. You don't have to go and put yourself into a bloody coma to distract me properly."

Harry laughed, shrinking away from the hand more out of habit than anything. His mirth was quickly dissolved into a long, large yawn. "Tired?" Arthur asked, and Harry nodded once.

"I can stay up a bit more, if you need me to."

"No, that's alright," the blonde smiled, standing and collecting their empty teacups. "You can go ahead and take one of the guest rooms. I suggest the second one to the second to the left from my room. It's close, and I dusted it this morning."

Harry was about to protest again, but another yawn cut him off. "Maybe sleep is a good idea after all," He admitted, earning a small upturn in Arthur's lips.

"Right then. Annis, Edyth, could you lead Harry to his room please? It's next to the one Ame- _Alfred_ disorganizes every time he intrudes on my life."

Instantly, Harry was flanked by two faeries, one pink the other blue, each effectively tugging at his- or rather Arthur's- clothes and towards the stairs. With a quick assurance that his host would wait up for Hedwig, he was lead upstairs and down the hallway, stopping two rooms before Arthur's. He took a few mental notes about it as he entered. It was a generic bedroom, with moderate carpeting and walls in similar shades of pale, medium, and dark green. The full bed matched this scheme, and the dresser next to it was made of what seemed to be ash wood. The desk to his left matched this, with a simple desk lamp, and a closet to the desk's left. It was simple, but he liked it- much cleaner than the one his aunt and uncle forced him into.

The faeries tugged him onto the bed, and he couldn't help but smile at the softness. Arthur had the same if not a similar brand mattress in his own room, and, well, he remembered loving it to no end. Soft, comfortable beds were a weakness of his- a weakness he didn't get to indulge in often, and up until that day when he woke up in Arthur's bed, he'd thought that the mattresses at Hogwarts were heaven. Now, he knew just how comfy a mattress could be.

Not that he got to think on it long. Within five minutes of his landing on the bed, he was out like a light. The fairies looked at each other, their giggles jingling throughout the room softly as others joined them in lifting the boy enough to pull the comforter and sheets out from under him and then tucking him in. Smiling to themselves, they each gave him a tiny kiss on the forehead before zooming out and down to see their favorite caretaker, closing the door silently behind them.

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

The air was a bit warmer this morning, and the sun was shining brightly. This, Arthur thought, was a great day. He observed Harry walking beside him, watching Hedwig as she preened in the up-and-coming tree. It was on the right of what was Number 4 Privit drive, their unfortunate destination. He could see the anxiety in those emerald eyes, and his heart went out to the boy. He knew what it was like to have horrid caretakers, though as to which of their situations was worse, he couldn't say. He was quite sure, however, that these people adored men of status, that much he'd learned the prior night upon chattering about their families. He'd grabbed his various badges, just in case they should run into a problem. He could always come up with an excuse as to why he'd kept Harry that night instead of taking him home.

Harry jiggled the handle, frowning when it didn't open as it should have. He cursed under his breath, and trotted around the house to the side with an immaculately kept, yet still dying bushel of flower bushes. "One moment, please," Harry said to him, and Arthur watched with great amusement as the boy scurried up the wall, using the building and any natural foothold he had to break into his own room, which, Arthur assumed, he kept open. He disappeared through the window, and in a few seconds, the door was open, and he was welcomed in.

Packing hadn't been all too difficult. Harry hadn't exactly unpacked from last year, and he'd gotten all his laundry finished the morning the Dursleys had dragged him out of the house and into the city for Dudley's post-birthday, birthday present. So really, all he had to do was put them in his trunk, strap Hedwig's cage to it, and drag it down the stairs.

"Ready," He said, looking and finally finding Arthur scrutinizing the lack of food in the fridge.

"Alright, let's get- do you need help with that?"

"Huh?" Harry blinked then shook his head. "no, that's ok. It's a bit heavy, but I can manage,". Arthur's nod was slow and accepting, followed by a quick stride over, and a short tap on the trunk. It lightened instantly, and the surprise on Harry's face was impeccable. "How did you... " He looked up, eyes widened and surprised. "without a wand... ?". Arthur chuckled good naturally at this. "Not all magic involves wands, Harry. I thought you of all people would understand that,"

After a few seconds of dumbfounded shock on Harry's part, he smiled. Well, at least he knew for indubitable fact that Arthur was a wizard. They grabbed the trunk and headed for the door.

Which immediately slammed shut upon their nearing.

Both cursed, Harry drawing his wand as he and Arthur immediately dropped the trunk and stood back to back, eyes everywhere, looking for an enemy, threat, whatever was trying to make it so they couldn't leave. It was a tense moment filled with speeding adrenaline and fast paced hearts... and then it all came down.

"Harry!"

Harry's head shot in the direction, and his posture loosened instantly. "Remus!" He cried, practically launching himself at his guardian, who was so glad to hold him, his whole body eased immensely with relief.

"Merlin, Harry, you had us scared to death!" He said, taking the boy's face in his hands when he had finished hugging him. "Where have you been? We've been in a panic ever since the pulse(7)!"

"Pulse?"

"Later, Later. But first I have to ask, who is your... um... "

Harry looked up to see exactly why Remus had trailed off. Arthur stood stock still, looking down with eyes that betrayed nothing, to one rather angry looking Mad-Eye Moody, who had wand at the ready and poked rather threateningly up into Arthur's neck. "M-Moody, wait!" Harry cried, trying to run over, but stopped by his werewolf godfather who held him protectively. "He's good, honest! He's the one who found me unconscious in the forest- He nursed me back to health!"

Mad eye's prosthetic eye swirled to Harry, and then Back to Arthur. "Izzat true?" He said, normal eye narrowing in suspicion. "Even if it wasn't, wouldn't it be rather moronic to deny it now? Besides, why bother lying if it can avoid getting an entire vile of veritaserum shoved down my throat?"

Harry looked up at Remus, eyes surprised and questioning on whether such an occurrence were to happen. Remus sighed a smidgen guilty in response. "We just want to protect you, pup,"

"Moony, no, please? He's a good man... he is, really. He saved me from the dementors... that has to count for something, right?"

Remus looked up to lock gazes with Moody, the stout man nodding before removing his wand from Arthur's neck and holstering it; grumbling moodily the entire time. Arthur instantly went to massage his throat, wincing slightly when he found it a bit more difficult to swallow than it should have been.

"Thank's Moody," Harry smiled, getting a lazy wave of acknowledgment in return before the man's prosthetic eye swiveled back to Arthur. "I let ya go for now, but only b'cuse Potter's a decent judge'a character. Don't make the mistake of thinkin' I trust you," Arthur's gaze met that eye dead on, tone flat, a bit sarcastic, and slightly mumbled as he continued to rub his neck.

"Wouldn't dream of it,"

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

**A/N:**

Alright, so this is coming a lot later than I expected! Blame school. And Metrocon. But I'm out now, so hopefully it'll be updated more than once every 3 or so months.

Also, as a basic note for the whole of the beginning- Arthur might seem a bit OOC, but I figured he'd be more relaxed, and smile a lot more around his own people. Harry is also a bit trusting, but there's this whole 'trustable magical energy' that Arthur's sort of unconsciously giving off to the humanfolk, seeing as he's there country and he's supposed to protect him. It makes more sense, in my head.

Also, forgive me if they're not British enough- I tried.

**1))** This is roughly 4 inches. Harry is a malnourished boy who will hit a growth spurt when he is good and ready. I just wanted to make his short first.

**2))** The whole "British can't cook" philosophy stems from WWII when soldiers would be impatient and under cook, or be overly cautious and over cook their food. This in no way reflected the quality of the meals cooked in homes. So to reflect this, I believe Arthur can cook(now at least), he just freaks out whenever he's cooking for other people and screws it up. He didn't freak out so much with Harry because Harry's British. It's different. Also, if he's good with potions(which I assume he is) than he should at least be decent with cooking. At least in my head cannon, anyway, lol.

**3))** I forget what they were talking about. It wasn't anything terribly important, probably about Arthur's health or something. I don't think it actually had anything to do with soup, but 'blód' was put in there to grab attention. It does in fact, mean blood.

**4))** The word translates into 'breath' but Winflayth means his 'life essence' like his 'life's breath'. So, like his aura, or life energy or something.

**5)) **lýtling = means child. If I were to translate it, she's be saying 'little one'

**6))** Lots to explain in this paragraph. I figure everyone would have their own magical signature. Like a fingerprint. Arthur's been out of the magical scene for a bit, hence the 'wakening' of the country's magic. Laylines will play a role, look them up, they're pretty interesting. And why did Harry send a letter to Arthur Weasley, rather than to Ron, or Hermione, or Sirius? I have a great explanation, but I forgot it, so for now lets say it's just because.

**7))** The magical layline awakening thing.

Lotsa notes this time, lol. Hope this chapter isn't too long winded. Also, I'm thinking of posting up another story simultaneously with this one, focusing around Austria and Prussia. I'll probably be switching on and off between these two when I write, so I was wondering if I should post them simultaneously, or wait for this one to be done fore I work on the other. Just a question :3

Please read and review! The first batch of 15 made me smile so much, you don't even know.


	3. Employment Opportunities

**Disclaimer:** I do not own neither Harry Potter or Axis Powers Hetalia. They belong to their respective creators. The oc's mentioned belong to my friend and me.

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

Chapter 2

Employment Opportunities

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

He tossed for what was probably the third and a half time that night and sighed. It had been two weeks since he'd left for the Dursley's with Arthur, and he had yet to speak to the man. It was really starting to piss him off. Honestly, How many times was he going to have to tell them that he was a good guy? He had done nothing but keep his mouth shut, which honestly, Harry didn't blame him for. There was a rumor around the house that they were thinking of using veritaserum, and as far as Harry was concerned, that was a bit out of hand. He was about ready to go and wake the man up, and the only thing keeping him from such an act was that fact that the man seemed to be getting a terribly low amount of sleep.

He groaned for the ninth time as he sat up swiftly, retreating from his bed angrily and heading downstairs. He was careful not to wake up the portrait of Mrs. Black, but other than that he was being as obnoxiously loud as he could be. He let cups ring as they hit the counter, he let the water woosh as it fell from the faucet, and he groaned audibly when he realized there was no microwave. Silly him, he forgot- a house full of of Wizards didn't _have_ muggle appliances. Except refrigerators.

He didn't quite understand that one.(1)

"Awake too, are you?"

He turned on a dime, adrenaline pulsing through at the sudden bout of words, only to have all his anger slip away. "Arthur!" He smiled, hugging him tightly, causing the blonde to chuckle.

"Benett(2), Harry, I didn't think you'd miss me _this_ much."

"Of course I did!" Harry smiled. "I've hardly gotten to see you all two weeks! I'd sneak in, but you've hardly gotten any sleep, I hear."

"That _is_ true, but it's only partially from this predicament."

"Eh? Wot's wrong?"

"Family troubles," Arthur sighed, grabbing the kettle from the one cabinet Harry had yet to check and filling it with water. "A few of my acquaintances will be quite... put out, to find me missing. And with all this scrutiny, I daren't give them a ring."

"Eh? They're not barring you from going out and making a phone call, are they? I know you have a cell phone with you, I saw you grab it before we left for Privet Drive."

"I've sneaked out a few times. Can't get any signal."

"That's horrible... they won't be too worried, will they?"

"Wot, them? Ha, doubt it. Rosie, yes, but no one else really cares too much... they care, I suppose, just for all the wrong reasons(3)."

"Do I need to try and find her? I could tell her you're alright."

"No, no, that's fine," Arthur brushed off as he placed the kettle on the burner and turned towards the biscuit jar. "She's got her sisters to calm her down. And even so, she'll probably find me."

"Muggle?"

"Mmm... Yes."

"Then how?"

Arthur shrugged. "I'm not sure, really. She just does. Sometimes I think she's got a tracker on me or something."

Harry laughed a bit. "What is she, your stalker?"

His smile quirked playfully as he grabbed a few biscuits, nibbling on one as he enjoyed some sort of private mirth, a favorite memory perhaps. "Something like that."

Harry accepted a biscuit, nodding his thank you and nibbling at it. They sat there in silence for a bit, just enjoying each others company and brewing a pot of earl gray. A wonderfully peaceful transition, considering all that was going about. It was Arthur who broke the silence.

"Court, hm?"

Harry jumped as if snapping from a trance. "Yes... how'd you know?"

"I've been a few times. Muggle court, but the look and feel never really changes."

"Muggle court? Wot for?"

"Oh this and that... mostly occurrences from the 80's," A warm, recollection smile graced his features, his eyes glazing as if traveling back in time. "Wild years, they were... "

"The 80's? But you're 23, right? You would've been only 9 in '81... " Despite this discrepancy, Arthur's smile never left his face.

"Not everything is as it appears, Harry. You of all people should know that."

The whistle blew, and Arthur's focus was once more on tea. Once served, Harry allowed himself to ask the question he'd been bothering with the past minute and a half. "So how old are you then?"

"Old enough."

"Old enough for wot?"Arthur sighed. It was an aged tired that filled his visage rather than a sleep-deprived one. He sipped at the liquid in his cup, sending a visible shiver down his system. His eyes flashed with more and more weighty memories as the seconds progressed, and Harry suddenly felt he'd hit a sensitive button. "Just... old enough."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude... "

"It's alright, really," Harry watched as the blonde pulled out of his mood, making it disappear as if it had never been there in the first place. He hid his emotions like a pro. "I hate thinking on my age is all. Every old man does I suppose,"

"Old is _hardly_ the word I'd call you."

Harry felt relief when a smile quirked on the corners of Arthur's lips. "Thanks for that."

They chattered on for about an hour or so, little yawns and chortles pulling from opposite throats as the night progressed. It was about 3 when they finally realized the time and set off for bed.

"So you don't mind if I visit?"

"Not at all, Harry, not at all. You're company's a pleasure to entertain."

They smiled at each other and waved slightly, Harry heading towards his room and Arthur continuing upstairs. He wasn't going to wake up in the morning, not until 10 at least, but his trial wasn't for another few weeks, so it really didn't matter what time he woke up the next day. He couldn't go to Diagon Alley until afterward, it turned out- and with Ron and Hermione insisting on not going until he could join them, he had nothing to do, really, except to wait.

"Harry... ?" Ron mumbled sleepily as Harry slipped the door closed. "Wot're you doing up this- " he was cut off by a rather large yawn. "late... ?" Harry merely slipped past him and into his bed, removing his glasses and placing them on the nightstand like he'd had them not two hours prior.

"It's nothing, Ron. Go back to sleep."

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

He was careful not to upset his supposed 'keepers', both of which consisted of a straggly, deranged looking man who was just slightly obsessive over his hair and a lupine featured one with streaks of gray framing a young, tired, but determined face. He was kept under continuous scrutiny, and as to not annoy their edginess further, had strayed clear of the kitchen or anything he could end up burning anything with. He had shown a few spells, common ones that everyone knew, really, and was fortunate enough to have grabbed his rarely used wand on afterthought that morning of departure. So far they knew he knew the basics, and by word of mouth, they knew his house was a secure property behind plenty of defensive charms and repellants. How else would they be unable to find Harry with all their furious searching? This was good- revealing only enough to keep them satisfied, but not enough to hang himself with.

Truth be told, they knew far more than they thought, or they would if they would just talk to Harry. He knew they didn't take his observations seriously, despite his growing maturity and slow advance into adulthood. His friends listened, and he was sure his own guards would listen as well if they weren't so busy scrutinizing his every move. He tried not too seem secretive or unpleasant, but something about no privacy tended to bring out the worst in him. It was like he was meeting a main assailant to attempt at repeated peace negotiations when both he and his adversary knew they'd have far too many more fights before this war was played out. This feeling of always watching, always being watched... It was maddening.

It kind of reminded him of the Cold War, now that he thought about it.

He poured his tea, the only thing he dared make in the cramped, tiled room they called a kitchen; sighing as weariness washed over him. He was going to crack soon if he didn't talk to somebody. Not that there weren't people to chat with, he just found the conversation rather... lacking; and a bit too personal for his tastes. Not that he could blame them, or anything. If what he'd heard through the grapevine was truth, they were already deep in the throes of a war their own community wouldn't accept, not even when their 'savior' was screaming at them to listen. It was saddening to think wizarding society had become corrupt enough not to listen to the youth. It was they who saw more, they who in their infinite wisdom and purity truly understood the world as it should be. He was getting rather ancient himself, he'd not deny it, but even _he_ kept a portion of his soul pure enough to connect with his roots. It was often all he had left these days.

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry, I didn't know anyone was down here."

Eyes led away from his tea. He spied Hermione fidgeting slightly in embarrassment I the doorway. She was a rather cute girl, he thought, with that curly, dirty blonde hair and those intelligent hazel eyes. She had a cute face also, and slim shoulders- if he hadn't been so old, he might have flirted a bit. As of now, however, he was 21 going on ancient, and knew better than to dabble in the lives of under-aged women; he wasn't French.

"No no, that's quite alright," He said, smiling softly at an attempt not to scare her away. He needed a light conversation right now... or one that was more inquisitive than probing at least. An extra ally wouldn't hurt either. "I was just drinking my tea. There's a bit extra in the kettle if you'd like to join me."

She looked intrigued by the offer. This was a good sign.

"I'd hate to be a bother."

"Not a bother at all, I was growing rather lonesome anyways."

"Oh... Well if you're sure, then I'd be glad to join you, Mr... " She blushed slightly. "Ah-i'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten your name," Arthur laughed slightly, more at her shyness than anything. She was like Elizabeta... without the frying pan... or Gilbert.

"Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland."

Her small, sunkissed hands took the tips of her skirt, and she bowed her head slightly, lifting the ends even slighter, and Arthur felt as if he had traveled back to the times of knights and dragons; a time when every woman, peasant or noble, had grace and charm because that was what a lady was supposed to have and that was what every lady strived for. It was a time he missed more than he'd care to admit. She smiled playfully at him, eyes sparkling with a will that he knew was hidden well by such an effeminate gesture. Curtsy or not, this girl was pretty tough.

"Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure."

He nodded his head in a bit of a bow. It was only polite, after all. "Likewise I'm sure."

Without further delay, Hermione took her seat next to him and Arthur poured her tea. The conversation was rather light, ranging from what her parents did to what Arthur's employment consisted of. He'd told her that he was a caretaker for the forest he lived in, which was truth. He told her that his employers were rather happy with how he was keeping his land. This was true as well, for he'd never seen such a cheerful conglomeration of fairies in all his post-medieval years. She spoke of her schooling, how she was juggling as many classes as she could, and he told her that he vaguely remembered only that his years at Hogwarts had been rather enjoyable.

Conversation progressed rather kindly, talk traveling through a variety of subjects, until it settled on one in particular that... well, Arthur had expected it to reach him sooner or later.

"It's difficult, really," Hermione said, placing her cup down onto it's saucer gently. "He can be so easy to trust... I worry sometimes that he's being taken advantage of."

"I understand the feeling," He sighed in agreement. "I have a... an acquaintance of sorts. He's relatively new in politics as far as the rest of us go, and he tends toward... rather naïve if not idiotic ideas... He's nothing like Harry, not in the least, but that trusting innocence is there... that hero complex."

"Wot's his name?"

"Alfred."

"Ahh." She smiled up at him "You must be close. You talk so fondly of him."

Arthur flushed instantly. "E-e-excuse me? No, nono, we're not close a t'oll! He's such a divy; always has to be the centa of attention, tha' hippocrite, and 'e never takes care of 'imself, 'e pract'c'ly _ignores_ poor Matthew, an', an'-" his fist came down hard on the, a small indent pushing it's way into the wood. "An' I can' bloo'y stand 'im!"(4)

He took a few seconds to calm down, but once he registered the shocked expression on Hermione's face, he had the decency to blush in embarrassment. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to- " He sighed again, looking down a bit. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to blow up at you."

"N-no... no, that's fine," She said, recovering herself. "I pried a bit. I should be the one apologizing... um, but I see what you mean. About Harry, that is, with the trusting. Not that I can complain or anything, Ron and I do the same thingsometimes... Maybe it's because we're younger?"

"That's partially it. It also has to do with the sort of background you have, though age and experiences both play an important role... I in particular have difficulty trusting others in... well, in almost anything."

"How come?"

Arthur shrugged a bit. "It hurts too much, I suppose... That's why I'm so surprised at how fast I warmed up to Harry. He's such a pure child... I can't imagine him causing any sort of harm... Not maliciously, at least."

Hermione nodded in agreement, the implications sinking meaningfully into her calculating mind. It was difficult to not trust this man, and she couldn't seem to fathom as too why. They'd met many a person who seemed kind and good-intentioned only to have themselves betrayed, and here was Arthur Kirkland, quiet and mysterious, and she couldn't _help_ but trust him. Talking to him felt like when she tapped into her magic after a long muggle-summer filled with studying, and chores, and that horrible temptation to flick her wand and just see a few sparks, or the light switch on at the other side of the room. It was different than the other adults, because she could feel their magic only when they were of high emotion, or performing some sort of intense magical feat.

With Arthur, he didn't even have to _do_ anything, just sit there. Magic radiated off of him like a comforting aura, buzzing about the air and energizing her very core. It took hold of her and made her feel light and happy, and, and- she could barely explain it. Harry had difficulties doing this as well, and Ron, well, he couldn't feel it as strongly, but it was still there. Arthur Kirkland was one powerful wizard whether he knew it or not.

"Hermione! So this's where you've been!"

Both of the room's occupants looked up to see a slightly flustered Mrs. Weasley, hair straggling a bit out of it's usual style, but tame nonetheless. She hurried over, fussing about the kitchen as she did so.

"Harry and Ron have been looking all over for you dear. Want to talk about something or other- Oh! Mr. Kirkland, I didn't see you there. I found myself fancying some Earl Gray; care for a spot?"

"No thank you, Ma'am," He replied with a shake of his head, cleaning his cup in the sink and putting it in the dish drainer. "I've already drained a cup or two myself chattering with Miss Granger. Terribly sorry if it was an inconvenience."

"Not at all, dear, not at all. Shall you be retiring to your room then?"

"Yes, for a spell. I've not been sleeping well these past few nights."

"Hardly a wonder wot with you being holed up in a house of strangers. I'll try not to bother you then."

"I appriciate it,"

"Supper will be in a few hours. I'll send someone up to fetch you when it's ready."

"Alright, Thank you."

"You're welcome, dear."(5)

"Sleep tight, Mr. Kirkland!" Hermione called softly before he disappeared into the hall that connected to the stairwell, and ultimately, his quarters.

"Sweet man," Molly said, pulling out the various ingredients she'd need. "I can't fathom why everyone's so suspicious of him- he's been nothing but polite since he came here."

"They're just worried about Harry."

"I know they are, dear. We all are. Especially Sirius and Remus- they're his godparents, afterall."

"I still think they should talk to Harry about it. He's spent the most time with him."

"Thank you for your imput, Hermione," Came Remus's tired chuckle as he entered the room and took a seat. "Believe me, I have no intention of disregarding Harry's thoughts on this matter. I just want to make sure we're not being-"

"Royally screwed over by some sadistic manipulative bastard?"

"Sirius!" Remus sighed. Sirius swaggered over with a short stride, seating himself in his usual chair; the one right next to Remus. He was still a bit straggly, but that was Azkaban residue- nothing could wash him of it. He looked better though, healthier; of course, that might have been largely in part thanks to Molly's cooking. The rest was because he was so god damn obsessive over his hair,. He'd currently gifted himself with the rather unique project of grooming it back to its former length and lustre. Remus was just glad all it did to his Animagus form was produce a shiny coat.

"You can never be too careful Remus. Not after Moody got replaced all last year-"

"_Last_ year, Siri. Security's much better now. Besides, he's been here almost four weeks, don't you think he'd have tried to kill us at least once already had that been his intention?"

The suspicious look on Sirius' face was obvious to everyone as he stroked his chin in a nervous gesture of thinking. "Still. I don't want to be too easygoing. Not even Dumbledore's heard of this guy, and Dumbledore knows everything!"

"Honestly, Sirius, all those years in Azkaban have robbed you of your rationality," Molly said as she threw some ingredients into a bowl and set it to stir. "Not everyone's out to get you," His reply was a slight glare.

"No, but wot about Harry? A lot of people are out to get him!"

"I highly doubt Arthur's going to murder me in my sleep."

That sigh pooled all their attentions as Harry entered the room and headed for the fridge. He had been a little upset at the lack of information he'd been getting as of late in regards to his well-being and safety, so he wasn't very happy. It didn't help that he never seemed to get any privacy with his new friend, either. "Could you all just let up on him a bit? He wasn't ever this nervous when it was just us."

"That could very well mean he's up to something!"

"Sirius, quiet. We're just worried about you, Harry. We don't want to see you hurt," Remus said as he squeezed the boy's shoulder. "But if it'll make you feel better, I'll talk to the others about letting up. Sirius might not be happy about it, but If Dumbledore says it's alright I suppose we could ease our grip."

"Alright... " Harry muttered, finishing off his water before refilling it for later. "I just wish you'd listen to my thoughts on this... He's not a bad guy," _And let me _talk_ to the man for God sakes!_, he thought too himself. Ron and Hermione had already apologized profusely for not keeping in good touch since the beginning of the summer, and while he couldn't bring himself to hate them for listening to the Order members, he could still be upset about it. They could have at _least_ gotten him away from the Dursleys, or something...

"Sorry, Harry," Sirius said, puppy eyes out and Harry already starting to forgive him. "I just can't seem to reign in my paranoia. It's not that I don't trust your judgment, I've just... We've already lost Lily and James, I don't want to go through that with you too... "

"It's alright, Sirius," Harry said, breaking down and giving the recovering man a hug. "I can't fathom how this is affecting you, but I just _know_ you'd really like him if you gave him a chance... "

"I'll try, pup," Sirius said as he released the boy and ruffled his hair. "But you be careful, ok? You may know him better, but you've still only known him a day or two more than the rest of us. It's too dangerous to place your faith in someone you've known for so little."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Good," Remus cut in. "Now that _that's_ settled, you really should get me the recipe for this tea, Molly. It's positively euphoric."

"Oh I didn't make it. I only just came in before the two of you."

"Hmm?" Sirius questioned, looking up. "Then who made it?"

"Mr. Kirkland," Hermione smiled, standing and tugging on Harry's sleeve. "You and Ron wanted to talk with me?"

"Yeah. Well you know that potions essay we have to get finished? Well we were hoping for a bit of help... "

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

There was about 6 days left until Harry's hearing, and Number 12 Grimwauld Place had been all but hospitable. Most of their activities consisted of housecleaning, and thanks to a constant effort, they'd almost tackled every room in the house. The only real nuisance was that boggart they had yet to find the appropriate methods of dealing with, and honestly, it was starting to look like Molly's tidiness might overrun her thoughts on how dangerous a boggart was or could be.

Remus was tired, and Sirius's constant paranoia wasn't helping any, but at least he could sleep through the night. Yes, he generally had to be there and calm Sirius for it to happen, but he was sleeping, and that's what really counted in the end.

They were currently waiting for Dumbledore and Severus to appear with any news on Voldermort, the Ministry, and whatever else they were going to need. Sirius was still upset that he had to allow Severus into his house, but he was keeping quiet with his protests tonight- The potions master was dropping off a Wolfsbane potion for him to take on the 10th since he would be busy then. Remus wouldn't doubt that the Slytherin head probably didn't want to be there just as much if not more so than Sirius.

He glanced at Kirkland, sipping his tea gingerly and reading up on something in Gaelic. He'd been rather compliant as of late, but it was an compliancy in the most non-compliant form. He'd been called on this a few days prior, and had responded simply with "I feel a bit punkish."

Not that anyone understood what that meant or anything.

Molly was shuffling about, humming softly to herself as she fixed dinner. Even with the fate of the wizarding world heavy on their minds, they could always count on Molly to keep things in order. She set a mug of tea down in front of her husband who looked like he'd been chewed up and and spit back out a few times. Things at the Ministry didn't seem to be fairing well. All they'd gotten out of him before his collapse at the table was some halfhearted mumble about laylines.

"Ah, yes, yes, thank you, Severus."

The collective looked up as Dumbledore stepped through the threshold of the kitchen, his small, knowing smile proceeding the unwanting grimace of the irate potions master following behind him. They drew up chairs immediately, Severus taking on of the empty ones at the table and Dumbledore creating something soft, and comforting, and warm, before settling himself into that.

"Hullo, Albus," Molly chirped as she spotted him. He gave her a charming smile.

"Hullo, Molly, delighted to see you. Might I trouble you for a cup of tea?"

"But of course. It'll be done in a jiffy."

Remus smiled at his former headmaster. "Hullo Albus. Severus. Doing well, I hope?"

"Splendid, Remus, simply splendid. And how are you, Sirius?"

"Bored as hell and stir-crazy," Sirius replied in a half-mad voice. "Merlin, if I have to spend one more week inside this house I'll go mad!"

"Now Siri, you know that-"

"Yes, yes, Moony, I know. I just didn't think that breaking out of prison would get me thrown into another one!"

Remus took a sigh of relief as Molly placed down cups of tea, one for Sirius, Dumbledore, Severus, Arthur and himself, distracting the conversation slightly as everyone gave thanks in some form or another. Kettle in hand, she refilled Kirkland's cup, thoroughly startling him from his book.

"Thank you kindly," He mumbled softly, nodding toward her more shy than polite, and with much more respect than he showed any of the other adults. She simply smiled, pat him on the head, and headed back towards the stove.

By now, Dumbledore had grown a keen interest on Mr. Kirkland. On one hand he was tense, uncooperative, and sketchy; on the other, he was shy and misunderstood. He'd seen many a person of this calibre, but no one nearly as powerful. That magic that radiated from him wasn't the minimal flicker of most wizards, it was a dull wave that could be turned into a powerful roar if unleashed. At the current, it was timid and controlled, and from the man's disposition, he wasn't sure of anything short of his professionalism, and Harry's faith in the man. He seemed trustworthy enough, more so than Quirrel had been when hired, more so when Crouch had seemed when impersonating Mad Eye, and even more so than some of his own staff, even with the knowledge that they were the best people in all of England. It was also quite curious that Severus knew him- a conjecture he imposed from the subtle shock the potion's master had been experiencing from the moment Kirkland had been noticed to this very instant. The look of recognition, while startling, was more reputable for Kirkland than anyone- He hadn't seen any sort of kindness reach the man's eyes short of an interaction with Draco, or the subtle, unconscious, over-protective nature towards Harry- and this look was reminiscent of when the man spoke of Lily, however briefly and rare that may have been.

"Mr. Kirkland, I presume?" He spoke with a quirk, as per usual; his eyes alight with curiosity and mystery. He was vaguely surprised to find that Kirkland looked him strait in the eye- not a waver, not a glance, or a constant stare mixed with awe or disdain, but an actual straight look of complete and total confidence in himself and in what he believed. It was remarkable to find someone with such a strong will in this day and age.

"I am," He nodded, firm and confident, yet with an air of modesty. He sipped at his tea again. "You must be Albus Dumbledore. I've heard a great many things about you."

"All of them great, I trust?"

"Impressionable, in the least."

"Yes, yes, quite. I, on the other hand, have heard scarcely anything on yourself. Care to enlighten me a bit?"

"Not particularly, but out of politeness, I shall," He took a sip of his tea before setting it down. "My Name is Arthur London Kirkland. I believe myself to be rather impressionable in the negative sense, especially when under stress, scrutany, annoyance, or any other such negative cultural influences. I love tea and biscuits, I am rather proud of the United Kingdom and all of it's achievements, distolerate any form of ungentlemanly behavior, have raised many ungrateful brats within my years, and... well, i suppose I could be considered a bit of a recluse," He took another sip of his tea. "Anything else, sir?"

Dumbledore kept his eyebrow raised, stubborn green eyes meeting head on with sparkling, mischievous blue, and Dumbledore took a few moments to keep the challenge alive. This Arthur had character.

"I would rather like to hear your meeting of our young Harry- in your words, if you please."

"I found him in my forest, cold, shivering, and bloody. I took him home, cleaned him up, kept him warm- wrapt in a good dozen quilts or so. When he woke up, I told him where he was. We exchanged pleasantries over soup. He didn't want to return to his summer residence, so I offered a room at mine. He accepted, and we headed to Number 4 Privet Drive to collect his things."

"Is that all?"

"Give or take a meeting or two with a bunch of hyperactive faeries? Yes, that is all."

"Hm," Dumbledore's head tilted slightly as he kept Arthur's gaze a few more seconds before the blonde broke it himself- not out of loss of will or anything similar, but more to enjoy a satisfying savoring at his Darjeeling. "I do have one further inquiry, Mr. Kirkland."

Kirkland's eyes opened and stared into his own, half daring the headmaster to ask him anything. _I'll be ready_ they told him. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled back. Defensive and ready as this man may be, he knew for a fact he would be caught off guard in just a moment's time.

"How do you care for the title of 'Professor'?"

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

The room was a horrid mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere, books knocked off their shelves, drawers pulled from their dressers and flung to the floor, nothing but pure chaos. There was a dent in the wall that would need fixing later, and a furious black smear of ritual ink was strewn across three and a half walls, four lamps, and a mirror. Most precious objects were relatively unharmed, but a few of the more personal ones seemed to be missing- an intricately carved ash wand, a thick, leather bound spell and field book, several vials, and a pair of Union Jack boxers.

There was a pause in which the mess was indicated, another in which it was assessed, and a third in which a sigh pulled from a pair of lips at the exact moment a harmonious arm crossing, bridge pinching, and balance shift took place. Baibin(6) shook her head, tutting softly at the mess. Honestly, there was no reason for panic.

"Rosalyn!" She called. "Rosie, get out here!"

Silence reigned for a few moments before a shuffle from the upstairs level sounded, soon fallowed by a few more, heralding the arrival of her sister(7), who was just short of lighting her own fuse in explicit worry over the unbeknownst location of one Arthur Kirkland. She had tears in her eyes and everything.

"Rosie... " Baibin sighed, half pulling, half being tackled into a hug by the near-hysterics ocean who was crying and whimpering, and flipping out in general over Arthur's disappearance.

"I can't find him!" She cried so hard it was difficult to make out the words. "He's gone! What if he's been kidnapped! Or worse, killed! Or- or what if he left and isn't ever going to come back, or-!"

Baibin clamped her hand over Rosie's mouth, silencing the poly-color-haired girl and her incessant ramblings. "I'm sure he's fine, Rosie," She murmured, petting her sister's hair back into order. It had been sticking every which way for the good portion of the afternoon, or so she assumed. "This is England, remember? If he were dead, we wouldn't be here, would we."

Rosie shook her head.

"And the country seems no worse for wear since your last visit, does it."

Rosie shook her head again.

"So doesn't it make sense that everything's absolutely fine?"

Rosie seemed hesitant in her nod. "B-but Baibin, he's-!"

"I know, I know, but how far have you looked?"

"E-everywhere... "

"The forest?"

She nodded.

"The shipyard?"

She nodded again.

"Did you check with Howell(8)?"

She nodded a third time.

"What about with Jason(9)?"

Rosie was about to nod, but her demeanor relaxed a bit. "No... no, I guess I haven't... "

"C'mon, then," Baibin smiled, taking the Atlantic's hand and tugging her towards the door. "If anyone knows, it'll be Jason."

**~APHPAPHPAPHPAPHP~**

**A/N:** YAAAYYYYYY ANOTHA CHAPTA! And it's so much sooner than last time!

And look! We has OCs coming in now! I hope Arthur was a little more IC here. Especially when America was mentioned, lol.

**1))** Fridges are obviously the most magical things in existence. The Holy Grail, for example, wasn't a cup, but a fridge. A rather tacky looking one. With bad kindergarten macaroni art stapled to the front of it. With glue.

**2))** Gordon Benett, to be exact. I'm not British, so I'm pulling all my info on word culture things from here. They've even got sound now!

septicscompanion . com / showletter . php ? letter = q

**3))** Because honestly, if I were England. I would assume this too. Not that he's wallowing over it or anything. For the most part.

**4))** BritishAccent!fail. I've already been told I've been could do it better, without the misspellings, but it just... it fits, for me, So please bear with it. I'm trying.

**5))** This is sort of an off hand note that doesn't have anything to do with anything, but I just realized that my headcannon voice for Mrs. Weasley is the same as Mrs. Potts from Disney's _Beauty and the Beast_.

**6))** Báirbe Crest. Goes by Báibín or Baibin which actually sound different. Báibín is short for Báirbre, which, according to some obscure naming site, means "foreign" or "strange". It's also the Irish equivalent of Barbara. Baibin's my personification of the Pacific Ocean. She's motherly but in a very sisterly way, and tends to fall asleep floating in the middle of the ocean. She can turn into a mermaid, obviously, and is very protective of her siblings should they be in trouble. I named her what I did because I liked the sound.

**7))** Rosalyn Crest. Goes by Rosie. She's my friend's personification of the Atlantic Ocean. At first she was just an OC created to stalk Arthur and steal his union jack boxers, and was really meant for Rps so that she could get flirted with by her favorite character. She's evolved past that, however, and is now more of an actual character than a self-insert. She's very smiley and kind, but will kick ass if you make Arthur upset. They were at one point a couple, but they've kind of grown out of that, and are more really close friends. ALFRED DISLIKES HER BECAUSE HE'S JEALOUS and she does everything she can to enrage that jealousy. Seriously, they bicker like nobody's business. She has one child as far as we know, named Howell. As for my justification of pairing Arthur up with an OC, even if it was a past relationship, is that I'm trying to be realistic. Rosie has also been input so far into my headcannon I can't just ignore her. She's the Atlantic Ocean, for crying out loud, and if there's one thing Arthur loves, it's the sea. I just want to make it painfully clear to everyone that they will not be an actual, current pairing in this.

**8))** Howell Kirkland. He's Rosie and Arthur's child from the pirate days. He's also the English Channel. He won't actually make an appearance, as far as I know, but I thought he should be explained since he was mentioned, and will probably be again. He grows a bit slower, being a body of water, so he's only about 7. Caring for him reminds him of the Revolutionary War and how bad a father he thinks he is. He's trying to do everything right with Howell. I dunno, the boy may show up. He gets along well with Sealand.

**9))** Jason Ross. He's sort of like an elf, but not really. He'd been around since Arthur was little, so they're like best bros. I'm not actually sure what he is yet, but he's half human(his father was a Roman soldier) and is like Arthur's confident when he cant go to the other countries for something(because you just _know_ his brother's aren't an option). He has a brother who probably won't appear in this story past a few mentions(he's for another crossover I plan on writing). His character was thought up just to make Alfred jealous, because he was a crush of Arthur's during his punk days. Nothing actually happened, but they're still good friends, so Alfred's a jealous little American. I plan on putting him with a cannon character, but it won't be Arthur. I want to see if anyone can guess who though. Oh yes, and he's a tattoo artist. :3

Sorry for such long notes. I just don't want to get complaints or anything because I know a lot of people don't like CannonCharaxOC. That's why there's only going to be one, and that's with Jason. Honestly though, I'd like to see if anyone can guess who that Cannonchara is.

Also, I've been getting a few comments on how lax Harry seems. I hope he seemed a bit more in character this time.

Anyways, thanks for reading! And review please! They make me type faster!


End file.
